


i want to hold your hand

by harlequin87



Category: Rugby Union RPF
Genre: Asexual Character, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-05-08 06:07:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14688057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harlequin87/pseuds/harlequin87
Summary: Title from the Beatles' song of the same name.A 4+2 is totally the same as a 5+1, right?





	i want to hold your hand

**1) August 2015**

Barely three hours after Exeter’s final preseason game – a handy home win over Bath – the team were hanging out in a bar in the centre of the city. Dave and the other forwards were sat at the edge of the group’s booth (more leg room), slowly making their way through the stream of beer coming their way from the fans. Jonny gestured over to where most of the backs were dancing in the centre of the room and said wistfully, “I wish girls cared more about squat PBs than faces, y’know? I would wipe the floor with any of those guys in a second then, but I don’t get a second glance in this place.” The young props nodded sadly, while Luke and Alec smirked.  
“Eh, it’s all about personality really, mate,” Dave replied. “That’s why guys like Sladey and Jack can pick up with their hair – although the money might help.”

The rugby players all looked over to their teammates, gazing appraisingly at their chosen conquests. Jack was dancing with a stunning blonde, while Ian and Stuart were talking to a pair of women at the bar. Dave looked around for Henry, assuming that there would be the usual trail of women behind his friend. But instead, the other man was seated at the far end of the bar, eyes fixed on the drink in front of him. There were no hangers-on; instead there was a palpable exclusion zone of several metres around him, as if his glowering posture was physically repelling the crowd.

On the other hand, now that Dave thought about it, it might not be totally out of the blue. Henry hadn’t had the best of games, as he failed to make the crucial try-saving tackle on Banahan, ruining Exeter’s defensive efforts up to that point. Therefore, he might be wanting to lick his wounds, not play to the crowd. Also, Henry’s usual type was quieter, more bookish, than the rest of the team’s leggy beauties. Dave couldn’t see anyone that Henry would seriously consider going home with, even though that didn’t happen too often compared to the others. Taking matters into his own hands, Dave muttered an apology to the other men around the table and went over to Henry.

“Hey, Sladey, how’s it going?” he said, gently knocking his shoulder against Henry’s. “Match was good, huh?” Henry shrugged and continued to stare into the amber depths of his beer. “Not seeing anyone to get rid of some excess energy with tonight?” The other man only appeared more deflated, shoulders hunched and head down.  
“I’m really not feeling that tonight, Davey. Honestly, not at all.” There was a pause as he traced the rim of his glass with a finger. “Don’t think anyone else would appreciate dealing with me right now.” Dave winced in sympathy. They all felt that way after a game sometimes, like a completed tackle or a different pass would have solved the problems of the world. But most of the guys could see past that and still end up going home with someone with which to take out their frustrated energy.

“Are you feeling ill at all, buddy? You don’t seem very up for it tonight, that’s all.”  
Henry shrugged slowly and downed his beer. “When do I ever, mate? I’ll be at the gym in the morning if you want to work out together, but I’m going home now. See you.” He wound his way out of the bar, leaving Dave alone with his thoughts and an empty glass. Sladey must be coming down with something, he decided. It had been months since his last relationship ended, and most of the team would be going stir-crazy by now trying to find someone new. Henry was clearly the exception to the rule, though. If anything, his play had improved in the weeks following the break-up, when the team was letting him pass on nights out. It was a very strange situation – almost the opposite of what would be expected.

Dave shook his head to clear it of the alcoholic fog that was filling it. If this monastic regime was truly working for Henry, then that would be fine. But he couldn’t see how he could really be happy without picking up on a regular basis. Dave himself certainly couldn’t cope like that. His mother’s voice echoed in his head: _don’t judge people until you know the truth of their situation_. He coughed once, twice, and committed to following her advice. If Henry was okay, then it was okay.

**2) December 2015**

Henry couldn’t believe his luck. Just two months into the season and he’d broken his leg, had surgery and been told that there was no chance of playing in the Six Nations. Yes, there’d been the experience that was the World Cup a few weeks ago, but now the prospect of weeks and weeks without rugby stared him in the face. It wasn’t a pleasant sight.

Three days after surgery, when he’d finally been allowed home, his phone pinged. It was Dave. _Hey, Sladey! Figured you would be conscious by now – welcome to recovery club. At the moment it’s just us, Tomas and Will, but we have fun anyway. We’re meeting at mine this afternoon, if you want to come along :)_ Henry scoffed. Recovery club? That sounded suspicious. Why the hell would guys want to share their misery instead of just sitting at home and playing video games alone? That had been the procedure for all his injuries at London Irish.

Then he thought: why not? If it was a prank, it would only be a few hours out of the solitary months to come, and if the offer was genuine, then it could help alleviate the boredom. He decided to text his friend back. _Okay, Dave, but you’ll have to pick me up – I can’t drive with a broken leg, remember?_ The other player replied in acknowledgement and Henry began the arduous process of walking (or hopping, really) upstairs to put on actual clothes. It was complicated by Frank running around in between his legs and his crutches and just generally getting in the way. Henry usually loved his dog, but the injury and inability to even walk were making him angry and frustrated. Maybe recovery club was a good idea after all.

Dave picked him up a few hours later. The experience of hobbling out to the car and having Dave watch him as he shuffled slowly into the passenger seat was humiliating to say the least, but he knew that his friend couldn’t help him without aggravating his back injury. They drove to the forward’s house, where Will and Tomas were already standing outside the door. They both had various upper body injuries, so they had driven themselves and were looking at the time impatiently. “Sorry, lads,” Dave said as he eased himself out of the car. “But our newest member happens to be a bit of a cripple, so it took longer than I thought.” The other two men nodded understandingly and they headed inside.

Once they were all seated around Dave’s dining table, Dave – who seemed to be in charge, for some reason – brought out a thick black book and laid it in front of Henry. “This is the register of the recovery club, okay? You sign in with the date of your first meeting, and sign out when you play your first game afterwards. Also, I’m the leader now because I’ve been injured for the longest out of the four of us.” He smiled through gritted teeth. “If you’re interested, the book goes back to 2010, so you can see who used to play for the club and how long they took to recover.”  
Tomas nodded encouragingly at Henry. “What Dave won’t tell you is that he’s been injured for the longest of us four for this particular injury but overall as well. So he’s doubly qualified!” Dave eyed him grumpily. “Anyway, welcome, Sladey. Meetings are three times a week, not including actual rehab sessions or watching rugby. Okay?” Henry nodded obediently and entered his name and the date in the register.

Over the next weeks, Henry began to appreciate the company of the other players more and more. He’d known Dave for over two years, but Tomas and Will were less familiar. Through countless video game tournaments and day trips, he found himself worrying less about his recovery and enjoying the time off more. But he felt particularly drawn to Dave, in a way he never had before.

The older man had always been a good friend, but so much time in close proximity to him gave Henry a new insight into his personality. Dave’s intelligence was concealed most of the time by the laddish culture of the locker room and Henry loved his unexpected yet informative outbursts on practically any subject. He was also unfailingly caring, and as he neared his own return to rugby, he began to notice the days when Henry’s leg was hurting more. On one memorable occasion, Dave carried Henry from the house to the car without a single complaint about his back hurting. Henry’s heart felt a little fuller, reflecting on it in bed later that night, but he was also disappointed as it signalled Dave’s imminent departure from the recovery club. The abundance of private moments they had shared over the past weeks were kept in a special part of Henry’s brain, almost to prevent their pollution by the memories of everyday life. Sometimes, he felt a little flicker of _something_ in his chest, something he hadn’t felt in a long time, and that possibility was exciting.

**3) February 2016**

“Townsend to Whitten, Whitten to Woodburn, then to Slade and – over in the corner for Henry Slade in his first match back from injury! Exeter five points up against Leicester!”

Dave ran over to where Henry was being mobbed near the touchline and jumped into the mass of his celebrating teammates. Once the other players started drifting back to get into position for the restart, he grabbed Henry and knocked their foreheads together. “Yes, Sladey!” he yelled over the shouts of the crowd. “Knew you could do it!” Henry beamed and wrapped his arms around Dave. They walked back to their own half together, shoulders touching every now and again. Dave shot a glance at Henry as they went, revelling in the elation on his friend’s face. Over the weeks of rehab, any positive emotion was a struggle to find, but now Henry was back where he belonged, doing what he loved. “Nice work, mate!” he shouted finally, and jogged off to his assigned position.

Throughout the match, he couldn’t stop thinking about the joy emanating from Henry’s whole body, how his face lit up and his grin spread across his cheeks. _I want to make him that happy_ , he suddenly thought. Just as the team therapists had taught them, he carefully took the thought and pushed it aside to explore later. He wouldn’t – couldn’t crush this strange (but not entirely unexpected) unfurling of desire. Henry meant more than that: Henry deserved more than that. So, he filed it away and returned his focus to the game.

Afterwards, in the locker room, Dave sat in his stall and slowly rehydrated while watching the backs jump around to the pounding music. He leaned back and retrieved the thought from earlier. Henry was important to him, he knew. But the thought was suggesting that he liked him in a different way. Dave hesitantly focused his eyes on Henry, stomach twisting. He could appreciate the clean lines of Henry’s body – really, who wouldn’t? – but the expression of pure happiness on the other man’s face was what really sent shivers up his spine.

 _Okay_ , he thought experimentally. _I like Henry as a person, but I also want to date him and sleep with him._ Not surprisingly, it didn’t feel too strange. Since they first met in 2013, Dave’s platonic feelings had been growing stronger for Henry by the day, but now it seemed that they were extending in a different direction. _Does that mean I’m bisexual?_ He hummed. Maybe a locker room wasn’t the best place to be thinking about this sort of thing, and frankly, he’d had enough revelations for one day.

**4) March 2016**

Since their time at recovery club had ended, Henry and Dave had been seeking each other out more and more regularly. Before Christmas, Henry could have counted the number of times they had spent time together one-on-one with his fingers, but now the figure was closer to a hundred than zero. It was the week before Henry’s birthday – twenty-three, so basically the age at which he should be a functioning adult – and he had decided to try and meet that goal. In the weeks since the first tentative flutterings of his feelings (not love yet, it took a while for that to happen) had begun, he had determined his birthday as the day when he would ask Dave on a date.

It wasn’t an entirely unreasonable target. In the last few weeks, Dave had been initiating even more meetings than Henry, and sitting noticeably closer to him each time. Once, Henry had even caught him staring at Michele’s abs in the locker room (although that wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for the forwards – they were very impressive). All things considered, he felt that the omens were good for asking Dave out. The problem was that Henry liked to plan these things properly, and that meant it risked becoming a date in itself, which defeated the object. In the end, he decided to just invite Dave round to take the dogs for a walk and casually ask. Theoretically, it would work. Henry just had to stay calm.

The day itself went surprisingly well. Dave and Morgan showed up at ten on a Friday morning, they drove to the beach and the dogs soon tired themselves out chasing after each other. The two men sat on the rocks at the water’s edge, watching Frank and Morgan panting on the warm sand, occasionally throwing stones into the oncoming waves and talking idly. Henry was summoning up his courage to ask the question when Dave turned to him, tilting his head in confusion.

“Mate, are you okay? You’ve been a bit . . . off all morning.”  
Henry sighed at his entwined hands. The knuckles were white. Trust Dave to be all perceptive, today of all days. “Yeah, Davey, I just wanted to ask you something, that’s all.” His friend’s eyes narrowed. “Nothing bad, I swear, just – yeah.”  
Dave moved closer to him and wrapped an arm tight around Henry’s back. “Go on, then. I’m listening.”

Henry swallowed, stomach churning. He was surprised that Dave couldn’t feel him shaking. “I was wondering if, maybe, you would . . . possibly like to -” He broke off, words blocked by a lump in his throat. “Go on a date with me?” he squeaked out in a rush. Dave inhaled sharply and pulled away. Henry’s heart sank. _There goes that friendship_ , he thought. _Stupid homosocial sports._

Dave twisted around so that he was facing Henry and laid a steadying hand on his knee. The other man searched his face desperately for any hint as to his reaction, but Dave’s features were devoid of emotion. “Henry,” he said gruffly, eyes fixed on the sand at their feet, “are you – are you serious?”  
The younger man leaned back in anticipation of being hit. “Ye-yeah.” He breathed softly, words hurried away by the wind.  
A small smile spread across Dave’s face. “That’s awesome, man. I’d love to go out with you!”

Henry nearly fell over in shock, he was so light-headed. “Really? Like, you’re not going to be all homophobic and spread this around the team, then?”  
Dave shook his head with a grin. “No reason to, mate. I mean, if you hadn’t figured it out already, I’m bisexual, so anything like that would hurt me just as much as it would affect you.” Before he could stop himself, Henry snorted. Of course, the man of his dreams had to assume that everything was fine and dandy and they would have sex like any normal couple. If that part of his identity came out, the boys might do more than just tease him.

Burying the urge to have that particular conversation, he smiled up at Dave. “Okay, Davey. I just want you to know that I’m really excited about this, and us.” Dave looked back at him, cheeks crinkled with happiness. Then he started to lean in, and Henry’s heart started to thump harder in his chest. Usually, kisses were fine for him, but if this was a sign of the speed Dave expected him to go at, there could be a problem. Coming out properly always took time, and had even ended some of his previous relationships. He didn’t want to do that to Dave and their fledging relationship yet.

Dave brought a hand up to cup the side of Henry’s face and leaned in until their faces were mere centimetres apart. “Can I kiss you?” Dave murmured into the space where their breath mingled. Henry nodded quickly and moved forward to close the gap. They kept it close-mouthed for a minute, until Henry huffed and allowed Dave’s tongue into his mouth. This part he could do, he knew, and he loved it. Bringing his hands up to rest on Dave’s broad shoulders, he tilted his head and pulled them even closer together. Dave eventually pulled back for air, his eyes wide. “Damn, Sladey – that was impressive! I can’t wait to see what you’re like in bed, if that’s how you kiss.” Henry winced. Of course, the inevitability of sex. Just what everyone apparently wanted.

Suddenly nauseous, he whistled for Frank to come over and busied himself clipping his lead back on to his collar. “So – next week, maybe? I can pick you up and then drive us down to the beach.” Dave nodded happily and stretched out an arm to take Henry’s hand in his own. They walked back to the cars with the dogs scampering between them and Henry sighed wistfully. If all their relationship could be like this, he would be so happy. But no – stupid biological imperative always had to spoil it.

[March 16, 2016: #BigBoy #LikeFatherLikeSon](https://www.instagram.com/p/BDBqqO1HqkC/?taken-by=sladey10)

**+1) September 2016**

In the past few months, their relationship had been perfect, in Henry’s eyes. Every time Dave seemed to be angling for sex, he managed to forestall it by saying that he wanted to wait, or that his back hurt after the game, or even just that he had a headache. But his list of excuses was dwindling by the week, and Henry knew that soon he would have to tell the truth. But that was how his past three relationships had ended and he didn’t want to consign this one to the scrapheap yet.

On this particular evening, they had been curled up on Henry’s couch, watching some generic action film. Amidst all the explosions and gunfire on the screen, Dave leaned over and kissed Henry gently, with an intent that was clearly searching for more. Henry kissed back, suddenly grateful for how many layers he was wearing. “Hey, baby,” Dave whispered. The younger man could feel the words rumbling deep in his chest. After a few more minutes, Dave shifted forwards until he was hovering over Henry, who was practically pinned on his back. Then Dave began to move, and Henry could feel the bulge in his boyfriend’s jeans rubbing against his leg. Instead of fixating on that, he squeezed his eyes shut and counted his breaths, a steady in-out-in-out-in-

It only took a few seconds longer for Dave to realise that something was wrong. He sat back – almost as far away as possible – and wiped his mouth before speaking. “Henry, babe, what’s wrong? I’m so sorry I pressured you into it when you weren’t feeling up for it.”  
Henry smiled weakly, trying to keep up the pretence of normalcy. “Uh, yeah – about that. See, the thing is . . .” He felt a sudden urge to throw up. “I wasn’t just not feeling it tonight. I never really want to do that kind of thing.” Dave cocked his head questioningly. “I’m – oh God – I’m asexual. And also kind of sex-repulsed.” His voice had petered out to a whisper by the end and his eyes were downcast.

Dave let out an audible sigh, and Henry looked up hesitantly. “No, no,” Dave said, “I’m not angry with you. I’m just glad that you told me before things went any further.” He buried his head in his hands. “Jesus, Henry, I’m so sorry, I can’t imagine what you must have been feeling. I’ve been such a bad boyfriend.”  
Henry shifted closer to him and gently took his hand, forcing him to make eye contact. “Hey, no, don’t be like that. It’s on me as much as it’s on you – I didn’t tell you anything so there was no reason for you to realise.” Dave shook his head stubbornly. “Look, come on, Davey, I’m not that bothered. I’ve had worse.” His boyfriend’s head shot up at that, eyes wide.

“Henry, honestly, I feel terrible that I did that to you, and that your other boyfriends must have been such dicks. We should probably talk about your boundaries and stuff, right? Like, do you even want me to kiss you?”  
Dave looked so miserable that Henry had to take pity on him. “Mate, we can talk about that in the morning. I appreciate you stopping when you did and acknowledging my feelings. But it’s a serious conversation and I’d rather go to bed now.” Dave opened his mouth to ask a question. “Yes, of course you can still sleep with me tonight. I love having you near me.” Henry extended a hand to his boyfriend and stood up. “Come on, we have training tomorrow morning anyway.”

**+2) May 2017**

The final whistle sounded of the 2016-17 Premiership final, and Exeter had beaten Wasps 23-20 in extra time. Dave stood up from his position just behind the bench – stupid broken toe – and hobbled out on to the pitch to join the rest of his team. Henry ran up to him and jumped into a hug, thrumming with energy. “We won, Davey! We won!” he yelled, bouncing up and down. Dave squeezed him closer, glad that the cameras were focused on Gareth and the dejected Wasps players. “The Prem, baby!” Henry whooped.

Dave carefully put the back down, conscious that the strain of more than a hundred minutes of rugby could not be masked for long by the adrenaline they were both feeling. “I love you, Sladey, y’know? And I’m so proud of you.” Dave’s eyes were prickling with tears. He had to hide his face in Henry’s neck, overcome by emotion.  
Henry grinned at his boyfriend with wet cheeks. “I love you so much, buddy.” Then his voice became quieter, shakier. “Can I kiss you?”

In a different, less charged situation, Dave would have probably said no, citing all the reasons why the coaches and the media and even their families would disagree with their choice. But, frankly, in that moment, he didn’t care. “Of course, Henry.” He lowered his head and pressed a gentle kiss to the other man’s lips.  
Henry growled and tugged at Dave’s hair impatiently. “No, properly, c’mon. Don’t I deserve that?” Dave shrugged and pulled him back in again, closer this time. The sound level in the stadium may have dropped as the kiss dragged on, but then again, the blood might have just left Dave’s head to the extent that it was affecting his hearing.

When they finally broke apart, both red in the face and gasping for breath, it was gratifying to see that, for the moment at least, nobody seemed to have noticed. The other players were doing a fine job of keeping all the attention centred on them, so even the roving cameras were nowhere near them. Dave grabbed for Henry’s hand and squeezed tightly. “Mate, it’s chill,” Henry shouted above the noise of the crowd. “Look at Ian and Stu!” When Dave looked over at their two teammates, he could see that they were holding hands, albeit with a lot more subtlety than he and Henry.

He turned to smile at his boyfriend. “It’s not just us!”  
Henry grinned at him, tears welling up again. “Not just us,” he repeated. “But I’d rather have you over any of them any day.”

[May 13, 2017](https://www.instagram.com/p/BUCJPy5AaSU/?taken-by=dave_ewers)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the Beatles' song of the same name.
> 
> A 4+2 is totally the same as a 5+1, right?


End file.
